


first snow

by Anonymous



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Monsta X Bingo, New York City, Snow, This Is Cheesy As All Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jooheon falls in love with Changkyun during the first snow of the year.





	first snow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the winter edition of the Monsta X Bingo!
> 
> Go sign up.
> 
> Card A:  
> Coffee shop

Two days before Christmas, Jooheon is working late again.

His cubicle is appropriately decorated, thanks in part to Minhyuk and the big box of decorations he brings into the office every year. The calendar hanging above his computer monitor depicts a kitten wearing a Santa hat meowing at a plate of mouse-shaped sugar cookies. There is silver tinsel draped over Jooheon’s potted plant, cheap fairy lights strung over the cubicle divider, and snowflakes his niece cut from red and green construction paper tacked above his desk. A festive flyer advertising the annual ProWeb Inc. Christmas party sits untouched beside his keyboard. 

_Plus-ones welcome!_

Jooheon leans back in his chair and loosens the tie around his neck. He unbuttons the top of his baby blue dress shirt, and rubs at the headache forming near his temples. His shoulders instinctively slouch forward. For the past ten hours, he has confined himself to his cubicle. His boss insisted that Jooheon refactor a large set of code for one of their most lucrative clients, despite his current assignment only reaching the testing phase the day before. Jooheon, like he does most nights, stays late to finish cleaning it up, but it’s nearing nine o’clock now and his energy levels are running dangerously low.

There’s a coffee shop located on the main floor of the office building, and Jooheon seeks it out with enthusiasm, rushing inside as soon as the elevator dings green and mashing the button for the ground floor more times than necessary.

The café is mostly empty when he arrives. A soft, yellow glow radiates from the low-hanging, industrial lights and envelopes the wooden tables, the ceramic knick-knacks lined up on shelves, the menu board scrawled with chalk in delicate cursive. Gold and blue ornaments decorate a tree in the corner, a green velvet skirt bunched around the bottom. The smell of pine mixes with the earthiness of espresso. Jooheon breathes it in, and it soothes the ache in his shoulders ever so slightly. 

Kihyun, Jooheon’s regular barista and one of his closest friends, is manning the counter, mopping up a coffee spill with a snowflake embroidered tea towel. He smiles as Jooheon approaches.

“Working late again?” he asks. “On the eve of Christmas Eve?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jooheon says, watching as Kihyun wipes down the cappuccino machine. “I see we’re in the same boat.” 

“Turns out that Christmas gifts costs money.” Kihyun shrugs, leaning forwards to adjust the tip jar, turning it in Jooheon’s direction. A handwritten sign reads ‘I’m saving up for rhinoplasty. Signed, Rudolph’. “So make sure to leave something nice. Do you want your regular?”

Jooheon nods and tosses his extra change into the jar. “But make it double. This code I’m writing is such a pain in the ass,” he says, stifling a yawn as he takes out his wallet. “I’ll probably need to come in early tomorrow to test it for bugs. My boss is being a dick about the whole thing.”

Kihyun frowns as he opens the cash register and deposits the money Jooheon has handed to him. “I thought your extravagant office party was tomorrow?” he asks.

Jooheon laughs. He isn’t sure you can call a few plates of Christmas cookies, a punch bowl filled with watery sangria, and the annual Secret Santa—complete with bargain store bought gifts—extravagant. 

“It’s tomorrow,” Jooheon confirms. “But I’m not sure if I’ll go.”

“That’s no fun,” Kihyun says. “Why not? Still don’t have a date?”

Jooheon rolls his eyes. “Well, I would have asked you to come as my back-up if Hyunwoo hadn’t asked you first.”

“There’s just not enough of me to go around I guess,” Kihyun says and grabs a red and green pinstriped cup. He places it on the counter before strolling over to the door that leads into the staff room. He pushes it open with the toe of his shoe. “Hey, Changkyun. Come in here and I’ll show you how to make a double Americano.”

Kihyun turns back to Jooheon. “The new kid I’m training,” he explains.

The barista-in-training, Changkyun, emerges a moment later. He’s dressed in the typical café uniform. Black slacks, a pristine white button down, black apron tied around his waist. But there is a festive—and rather obnoxious—red and green plaid bowtie hanging around his neck. It’s plain to see that Changkyun is the new kid. Jooheon watches as he runs a nervous hand through his light brown hair, fixing it just so. His fidgeting fingers push his rounded glasses up the bridge of his nose and then fold together awkwardly in his lap. 

“Changkyun, this is Jooheon,” Kihyun says. “Jooheon, this is Changkyun.”

Jooheon smiles and receives a shy smile back. Somehow, the gesture causes warmth to creep up his cheeks.

Changkyun is cute, to say the least, and exactly Jooheon’s type.

Jooheon tries not to stare as Kihyun instructs Changkyun on how to use the machine, which buttons to press, which levers to pull, how to get the foam just right. Changkyun is a quick learner, and Jooheon’s double Americano is ready for him in less time than expected. Kihyun praises Changkyun for his work and Changkyun’s face lights up like the Christmas tree in the corner.

Jooheon takes his coffee and savours the burn of it on his fingertips. 

“You’re okay with closing up, right?” Kihyun asks Changkyun as he unties his apron and throws it onto a hook. Changkyun nods. “Good.” Kihyun turns to Jooheon. “Hopefully I’ll see you at the Christmas party tomorrow, but if I don’t, I’ll start charging you extra for your drinks.”

“Sure thing.” Jooheon laughs, and waves goodbye. “See you tomorrow, Kihyun.”

Kihyun leaves, and Jooheon sits down at a table near the window. He watches as the snowflakes drift down to the pavement. It’s the first snow of the year. Jooheon had begun to worry it would never come at all. Some of the snowflakes stick to the glass and melt, the fairy lights strung throughout the café sparkling in the reflection of the droplets. Elvis Presley’s rendition of “Blue Christmas” plays faintly over the speakers as Jooheon sips his coffee. The foam sticks to his upper lip, melting sticky and sweet against his skin. 

He glances over at Changkyun who’s spraying down the machines, grabbing dirty dishes from empty tables, and ensuring that the gift cards sit in their holders just right. Jooheon all but forgets his work problems as he looks around the café absentmindedly, the coffee warming his belly and melting the stress away from his joints.

He tries not to think about coding. Similarly, he tries not to think about the office Christmas party, but with a lesser degree of success. Every year he braces himself for the questions from his coworkers about his Christmas plans, whether he’ll be staying in NYC or travelling out of town to visit his family, or if there’s someone special he’s spending his holidays with. All that romanticized Christmas bullshit that Jooheon pretends not to like, but secretly yearns for.

Yes, he’s seen a few Hallmark Channel holiday movies in his lifetime. Horse-drawn carriage rides, snow angels in the park, a heart drawn with whipped cream in a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

Jooheon’s last sip of his Americano tastes so bitter in comparison. He sets his mug down on the table and Changkyun walks over, his dress shoes tapping against the tiled floor and echoing through the empty café. He grabs the mug from in front of Jooheon and places it on his tray with the rest of the dishes, but in doing so, he leans over a little too far and a plate falls from the tray, smashing against the ground. 

“Shit,” he says. 

He quickly stoops down to collect the shattered pieces, but Jooheon has beaten him to it. He picks up the two halves of the broken plate and hands them to Changkyun. Their fingers brush briefly as he takes it.

“Thanks, sorry about that,” Changkyun says and tosses the broken pieces onto the tray. “It’s my first week on the job.” 

“No worries,” Jooheon says. “I clean up for a living too.” Changkyun’s eyebrows knit together and Jooheon realizes how condescending that must sound out of context. He backpedals. “I mean I’m a programmer,” he explains. “Programmer humour. It’s not that humorous, I guess. Not to most people anyways.”

Changkyun snorts. “Right.” He walks behind the counter and throws the broken plate into the trash. “What did you say your name was again?”

Jooheon stands, hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s Jooheon.”

“I probably should have remembered that,” Changkyun says. “But I hear baristas aren’t very good with names.”

“You’re already getting the hang of things.”

Changkyun smiles at that. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good, it was meant to be one.”

There’s a pause in conversation and Jooheon swears he can see Changkyun’s ears burning red like Rudolph’s nose.

“Are you from New York?” Jooheon asks, but he already knows the answer. Changkyun looks fresh and bright-eyed, not as weathered and disgruntled as those who’ve lived in New York their whole lives.

“Boston, actually,” Changkyun says and loosens the bowtie around his neck, letting it hang there. “I’m going to NYU for Visual Arts. I’m a sophomore,” he motions broadly towards the café, “and I need tuition money.” 

“So do you paint?” Jooheon asks. 

“Painting, sketching, sculpting.” A smirk plays at the corner of Changkyun’s mouth. “Latte art if you’re so inclined.”

Changkyun smiles in a way where his tongue catches between his teeth, eyes softening. It’s flirtatious. Jooheon leans across the counter, arms crossed, crowding into his space ever so slightly. Changkyun doesn’t seem to mind.

Jooheon chuckles. “Latte art, of course,” he says. “I work with ones and zeros. There’s nothing very pretty about it, except when you run a line of code and it actually works. Now that’s beautiful.” 

“I can imagine,” Changkyun says.

His glasses are slipping down his nose, so he takes them off and fiddles with the arm. Jooheon can really see his eyes now, deep brown and warm. Something playful glints across them, if only for a second.

“I can probably close up early,” Changkyun says, still twiddling his glasses in his hands. “I’ve been meaning to see the lights in Central Park. If you’re not busy, you could come along.”

That catches Jooheon off guard. “Yeah, sure,” he says, trying to play off his surprise. “I’ll, um, get my coat.” 

Coding be damned.

Changkyun smiles, tongue catching between his teeth again. “Cool.”

—

Jooheon has seen the lights in Central Park many times before, but this time is different. This time, Changkyun is here with him. He watches as Changkyun’s eyes light up at the sight of so many colours—pink, blue, yellow, green, red, white—twinkling above them. There are thousands of glittering lights strung above and along the path, and around the branches of the evergreen trees. The snowfall is growing heavier, a fresh blanket covering the grass and the sidewalks, sticking to Jooheon’s woollen hat and collecting in Changkyun’s hair.

They walk along, bundled up in coats. Changkyun’s face is half covered by his scarf. Jooheon wants to reach over and tuck it under his chin, just so he can see the rosy redness growing at the tip of his nose, but suppresses the urge. They’ve only just met. 

They stop in the path, looking at one of the larger trees and its ornate decorations. 

“How come the world seems so much quieter when it snows?” Changkyun asks.

“It changes the acoustics,” Jooheon says. “There’s a lot of space in between each snowflake, which absorbs all the sound.”

A buggy pulled by a cream coloured horse passes them, the coachman dressed in a three-piece suit and a red ribboned top hat.

“I thought that horse-drawn carriages were just a thing that existed in movies,” Changkyun remarks.

“It’s not as romantic as it looks,” Jooheon says. “Be careful not to follow in the path of one unless you want to throw your shoes out.” 

Changkyun’s nose crinkles in disgust. Jooheon laughs. They keep walking until they find a park bench, brush the snow off of it, and sit down. Changkyun produces a pad of paper from his backpack and starts sketching the winter scene sprawled out in front of him. He chews on his lower lip as he works, hunched over, bangs hanging into his eyes. Jooheon enjoys the sound of Changkyun’s pencil scraping against the page, short strokes then long strokes, quick then slow. When he’s finished, he rips the sketch from his sketchbook and hands it to Jooheon.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” Changkyun says. “I usually spend the days leading up to Christmas on my own.”

Jooheon looks down at the sketch in his hands. It’s a simple drawing of the sparkling evergreens, lights strung between the street lamps, snowflakes swirling in the air. The bottom half of the page depicts the two of them sitting snuggly together on the bench. “Merry Christmas, Jooheon” is scrawled messily in the corner, along with Changkyun’s signature. 

“Hey, Changkyun?” Jooheon asks timidly.

“Yeah?”

“My office is having a Christmas party tomorrow, if you, um, want to you could come,” Jooheon says, trying not to stumble too much. “I think Kihyun might kill me if I don’t show up with a date.” 

Changkyun raises his eyebrows. “A date?”

Jooheon clears his throat. “Well—”

“Sure, it’s a date,” Changkyun says, and Jooheon’s whole body warms.

The snowflakes drift down, and the earth is even quieter still.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve, Changkyun,” Jooheon says.

And even though they just met, by some Christmas miracle Changkyun leans in and presses a kiss to Jooheon’s cheek. His lips are warm and soft. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve.” 

Jooheon falls in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> My teeth are aching.


End file.
